


The Setup

by thecompletebookworm



Series: Rumbelle Showdown 2015 [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Showdown 2015, Tracking Down a Serial Killer AU, dexter au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecompletebookworm/pseuds/thecompletebookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts: Ice truck killer!AU, Ankle, “As you wish” Detective French has toiled too long on the Spinner's murders to walk away empty handed even if she knows it's a setup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Setup

**Author's Note:**

> Rumbelle Showdown Prompts: Ice truck killer!AU, Ankle, “As you wish”

It was almost five o’clock of another highly unproductive day at the station.  Belle tried to not let her mind wander as she shuffled through more papers.  Nothing was making sense.   The only connection between any of the victims was the way they were killed.

She just wanted to get out of there, maybe meet Robert at the diner. Or really anything as long as it didn’t involve severed body parts.  Still, she reached into her, wrapping her hand around her phone so she could text the man who made her feel like a smitten schoolgirl.  

Another glance around her office squashed any romantic thoughts: the map pinned to her bulletin board, fourteen smiling pictures, notes on her desk from interviews with family members. 

There was definitely no time for romance. 

“Detective French.” 

The voice dragged her attention away from the map with its fourteen little red thumbtacks scattered across its surface.

“What?”  The woman pushed a handful of brown hair out of her eyes to look at her partner.  The case had them both on edge.  “Graham, please tell me we have good news.” 

The man shifted his weight.  “Another body’s been called in.” 

“Where?”

“Near the abandoned library on 5th.” 

The detective sighed and added another thumbtack to the map.

* * *

“I thought you said we had a body,” Belle said as she pulled on plastic gloves.  She reached out and grabbed the severed foot.  She brought it closer to examine.  “It’s been drained of blood like everything else." 

"But do you see this groove?"  Graham reached around her to point at an almost unnoticeable cut just below the ankle.  "He was interrupted."  

"This is the only part we’ve found here, right?"  Belle glanced around the clearing.  "The Spinner has always left more behind." 

"Maybe he’s worried.”

“Or maybe,” Belle laid the foot back on the ground, “this is a setup." 

"What?” Graham stared at her as she backed away from the only real evidence they had in a while.  “You’re not saying we just leave it.  The case is getting cold.”

Belle raised an eyebrow.  “You think I don’t know that?  Fifteen People have been found in pieces, drained completely of blood.  It’s all methodical.  We’ve found only what he wanted us to find." 

Graham looked as if he wanted to interrupt but Belle inched toward the abandoned library, looking at her partner as she explained, "The truck, golden suspension cables, Mill’s fingerprints.  He let us think we had the killer in custody before striking again.  He isn’t just going to make a mistake.”  

“Very Good, Dearie.”

Detective French spun on her heel hand already on her gun.  It was eerie, echoing somehow from the decrepit library.  That voice was vaguely familiar, but it sounded wrong somehow, too high pitched. 

“Graham, you’re going to cover me. If you think he’s going to-” Belle couldn’t finish the thought.  They had both seen the bodies.  “I want you to shoot, even if I’m in the way.”

He did nothing but nod, grim determination set on his face. 

Belle took a deep breath.  Do the brave thing and bravery would follow.  Her motto had never been more apt. 

She approached the library doors. There were cobwebs everywhere but the door handle was bright, almost as if it had just been polished.  Definitely a setup. 

Belle pulled out her flashlight and with slight hesitation her gun.  She didn’t want to be cornered. It was hazardous to have both arms occupied, but the gun was the reassurance she needed.

Belle pushed open the door. 

She remembered when the library was open.  It was truly awful to see it in its miserable state.  The carpet used for Storytime was covered in a few inches of dust.  Boards over the window caused everything to be further distorted, everything half in shadow.  The library only vaguely resembled the one from her memories. 

She heard footsteps.  They were still distant, but she hated how exposed they made her feel.  She darted behind the nearest bookshelf and waited.  She tried to take shallow breaths.  There was a murderer here somewhere.  She just needed to find him first. 

Something fell off a shelf.  Belle paused before letting the muttered expletives guide her steps.  The voice was even more familiar now that it wasn’t playing games with her. 

Belle peered over a row of encyclopedias.  She could vaguely make out a dark suit jacket.  It was incredibly nondescript, although clearly well made.  There was an oblong object not quite hidden under the cloth.  Gun, or possibly a knife.  The man turned and she could see his slightly bloodstained hands toying with more golden wire. 

This had to be the Spinner.  Belle pocketed her flashlight.  Did she shoot now? He was dangerous, but Belle still couldn’t be sure. They had one fraud already.  He needed a proper trial. 

Gun held in front of her Belle, she walked around the shelf.  “I want you to put your weapon on the ground and then keep your hands where I can see them." 

“As you wish.”  The man turned and tossed the knife at her feet. 

Belle was in shock.  It wasn’t just his uncharacteristic surrender.  She hadn’t imagined it.  His voice had been familiar.  

"Robert,” Her voice broke as she whispered his name.  Belle blinked several times reminding herself that this wasn’t the gentle man who had talked so passionately about antiques.  She tried to force the image of him blushing as he asked her to Granny’s for hamburgers.  That man was just another act. Here stood his true self: gray-tinged hair pulled back, blood on his hands, eyebrow raised. 

“If you’re going to arrest me, Dearie, you might need the handcuffs,” his smile was crooked now, but his words were a soft croon, not the false persona of the Spinner. 

Belle already wanted to forget, forget he’d done all the terrible things and just go back to casual conversations in his shop.  She wanted his awful jokes about condiments as he ran out of things to say due to nerves.  She craved his smiles and his quips (which in light of his guilt seemed slightly ominous.)  It was just her luck that the seemingly perfect man would be a murderer. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but Robert made no attempt to escape.  Belle felt a hand on her shoulder.  She’d never been more relieved to see Graham. 

* * *

Robert looked odd in the orange prison garb. She had never seen him out of a suit before.  He slouched in his chair; his hands gripped the edge tightly.  He looked as broken as she felt.

Belle didn’t look at him as she sat across from him, instead staring at the one-way mirror where she knew her colleagues were watching.   They needed her to do this. 

She reached to pull out her bag of evidence, but he stopped her, resting a hand on top of hers.  She jerked away.

He brought his hands back together, twisting them. He’d done that before on some of their first dates.  He had been so nervous.  

“You won’t need that.  I confess.  I confess to the murders of Nicolai Zoso, Alexander Hordor…”

Belle couldn’t believe what he was saying. A confession. She had wanted more than anything to crack this case.  Now the victory seemed hollow.  

“Why?" 

"Because you deserve so much better." 

Belle scooted her chair back slightly.  If he was planning on continuing his little deception, she wasn’t having it.  "I doubt you care Mr. Gold.  I was under the impression I was just another pawn in your game.”

Real hurt flashed across his face.  If she weren’t so angry, Belle would have wanted to comfort him. 

“I could never hurt you.”

Belle gave a short laugh that sounded cold even to her.  “Says the man confessing to murder."  

"I did what had to be done." 

“Why?”

“Because Detective French.  There are people in this world who deserve it.”

She couldn’t help but wince at the impersonal way he said her name.  

“No one deserves it.”

Gold leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.  “Nicolai Zoso, nothing more than the worst dirty scoundrel you could ever encounter.  He used a person’s worst grief to make a profit." 

"Worst Grief?”

“He was a child abductor, Detective French." 

Belle felt lightheaded.   “And the rest?”  She couldn’t stop her heart from leaping in her chest.  There was still hope. 

“Rapists. Smugglers. Abusers.  I’m surprised the Bureau didn’t see the connections.”  He almost grinned at her.

To her shock, she returned it.  “Well the Bureau has been rather busy and-“ She shuffled through her papers.  “I don’t see any criminal records on most of these.”

“Of course.  This is the scum that got away.” 

“But-“

Her interruption seemed to break him, tears streaming down his face, as if he had been teetering on the edge for some time now.  “He killed my son, Belle.  There was nothing I could do.  He took my Bae.” 


End file.
